On the Trail Illegal Hunters Who Illegally Snare China's Protected Wild Birds.

Silva Gu's gaze sweeps across miles of open meadows, searching for suspicious activity in the pre-dawn darkness.

He speaks in a hushed tone as the team seeks a place of cover in the open area. Behind us, the vast metropolis of Beijing remains asleep. During the vigil, we hear only the sound of breathing.

Suddenly, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, the sound of footsteps emerges. The hunters have arrived.

Snared

Overhead, billions of birds, many so small that they can fit in the cup of a hand, are migrating south for winter.

They have benefited from the warmer months in northern regions, consuming bugs and berries. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they head to more temperate climates to nest and feed.

The nation hosts over 1500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the global population – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major migration routes they follow converge in China.

The area of meadow in question, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an refuge for small birds – farther in and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among towering rows of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so fine you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across half the length of the field and supported with bamboo poles. At its center, a small finch was struggling frantically to escape, but the more it moved, the more its claws became tangled.

It was a protected songbird, a protected bird in China, and an important "bio-indicator" – which signifies if its population is healthy, so is its ecosystem.

Tracking the Trappers

The conservationist, in his thirties, does this work for free using his personal funds. He has given up on many nights of sleep to release trapped birds, and he has spent the last decade persuading the police in Beijing to prioritize this issue.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he states.

So he enlisted helpers who were concerned and launched a group called the Beijing Migratory Bird Squad. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the local police and forestry bureau. These small and persistent acts of persuasion have shown results. The police discovered that apprehending illegal hunters also led to tracking down other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our goals were partially aligned," Silva says, while pointing out that enforcement is still patchy.

Silva's love of birds started in childhood. He grew up in the 1990s in a much changed capital.

He recalls exploring the fields on the city's edges where he discovered birds, frogs and snakes. "However, beginning in the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were viewed as areas for development, not sanctuaries to preserve.

The transformation was alarming. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I decided back then to dedicate myself to preservation and I took this path," he says.

This has not made for an simple journey. One of Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He gathered several of his associates who surrounded me and beat me up," Silva recalls. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not brought to justice.

He has also seen the departure of his team of helpers over the years. This work demands patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are willing to take on the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"I do this full-time," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must give it your all. You cannot be half-hearted."

He says fundraising covers some of the costs – over 100,000 yuan annually – but donations have dipped because of the slowing economy.

So he has adopted new ways to track the poachers.

He analyzes satellite imagery to find the paths worn away by the poachers. He charts these against the birds' migratory routes and looks for areas where they may rest. The satellite images can even show lines of net traps which can catch scores of small birds at night.

"Certain prized species command a high price," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to keep birds are now often affluent."

While there are wildlife laws in place, Silva believes the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Keeping a caged bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a mark of prestige. This dates back to the Qing dynasty. Nobles and elites would build ornate bamboo cages to display their birds.

This custom that persists mainly among older individuals in their 60s or 70s. Silva says some elderly citizens may not understand they are committing a wildlife crime, or grasp that numerous birds were killed in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"These individuals didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with a little money, they have adopted the habit and custom of caging birds," he says. "China developed so fast, there was little opportunity to educate people about ecology. Once adults' values are set, they're really hard to change."

Disrupted

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several small cages with chirping songbirds.

A separate individual stands outside a nearby market holding a bird cage shrouded in a black veil. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This offers a view of an old Beijing where informal vendors have established a niche trade.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a typical day, there were shoppers browsing everything from old trinkets to dentures.

Information suggested that wild songbirds could be bought in a nearby green space. It was easy to find.

Loud music played from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a traditional dance. Nearby several men, all in their later years, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were covered in black fabric.

But today there would be no transactions because the police had arrived. They were questioning the bird owners and recording details. Unyielding, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his